Uncut version is on AO3.

There was going to be another flashback to James's past in this chapter, but it was becoming bloated enough as was.

While Emily and Mavis wouldn't face the same legal ramifications as t he male characters in same sex relationships, they keep it low-key to protect themselves. Douglas and Rosie is a crack pairing of mine, in that both are people who are trying to carve out their own individual identities, i.e. Douglas distancing himself from Donald, and Rosie distancing herself from Thomas. I had to cheat the timeline a little here: all-female train crews didn't start appearing in the UK until the 1980's, so to balance things, all of the female drivers in this have assigned male crews, no exceptions. Male drivers can choose female crew members if they want, given that unfortunately the time period would have afforded them more autonomy than their female co-workers. I do not recommend looking up information about the Mau Mau Uprising. The Spiteful Brake Van in this was converted into the guard that was trying to get Douglas and James fired.

OC's ahoy again! Christopher is the name of Edward's ex, who was mentioned in passing in Steam and Shadows.

They didn't come to his graduation.

It wasn't that James expected them to, nevertheless it hurt. His grades weren't very good, and it reminded him all too well of his mother telling him, "You're not very intelligent, but you have that pretty face. It makes up for it."

His mother's brother, Albert, however, did make it. James had an understanding with the man, at least. While his dwelling was quite a step down from his previous lodgings, mostly due to his uncle not being married or having children of his own, at least it was a place to sleep, even if the couch was bad for his back and the sounds of engine whistling and trucks passing tended to jolt him awake. As time passed, however, James slowly became used to it, and allowed the sounds to lull him to rest.

"Don't think I'm going to allow you to be lazy, kid," said Albert, with James reflected in his mirror over his shoulder in the mirror as the former shaved, "You'll need to work for your keep." James scowled at that but said nothing.

He had less and less time to spend with friends between keeping his relative's home in order, cooking, and mending his uncle's clothing, usually a railway uniform. James told himself it didn't matter, as Kenneth and Jerry would move on to tertiary education, while he would stay behind. Still, watching them walk off after the graduation ceremony still hurt.

"So, what are you going to do?" Albert asked, raising an eyebrow.

James shrugged. "I can walk on the rails like you. They're hiring, aren't they?"

"You'd lower yourself to that?" He jibed.

"Do I have a choice?" James asked, "You were going to rid yourself of me, anyway."

An angered expression on his face, his uncle raised his hand, "Now, see here—"

James instinctively recoiled, and Albert lowered his hand, a look of genuine shock on his face. "I wasn't going to—oh my…" He sighed, shaking his head, his hands on his hips. "You're just a kid, too. Barely older than a baby."

James felt indignant at that and stood up straight. "And?"

"I won't be able to fix you, sorry." James scowled at that, but not quickly enough to hide the crestfallen look on his face. "Here," his uncle said, grabbing his hand to hold up, and put a few banknotes into it, "Go get yourself a drink to celebrate your graduation. Things will only get harder from here, so you may as well enjoy it." Albert took his leave at that, pulling the front door shut behind him.

James counted the banknotes in his hand before pocketing them in silence, the quiet house surrounding him. He sighed feeling utterly lonely.

XXXXXX

Percy groaned, cracking an eye open. Morning light shown over his body. A pillow was under his head. The furniture stood over him, and was comprised of chairs and a couch, as opposed to his bed. Footsteps and quieted voices sounded near him, including a set of steps approaching him. Twisting about, he saw Donald pulling out a chair to sit down.

Noticing his glance, Donald greeted, "Morning, Percy." Dark circles were under the Scotsman's eyes.

"Morning," he replied with a yawn, "Why am I on the floor, Donald?"

"You liked it," he answered.

Propping himself up on his arm, and wincing, he asked, "Come again?"

Donald answered, his hand draped over the chair's arm as he rubbed at his eyes, "You were commenting about how nice the floor was, and stroking over it, saying that you hadn't realized it for so long. I thought it would be better if I left ye be."

Percy stared at him and wondered how he was going to live that down when a crash sounded. Percy winced. "Phillip, you better not have broken my lamp!"

After a pause, Phillip replied, "Technically it's Thomas's lamp, as well."

Percy dropped his head into his folded arms, mumbling, "'Let's have a party, Thomas, it will be fun,' I said."

"It was fun, give yourself that much," Donald offered.

"Who's all still here?" Percy asked, not looking up from his arms.

Donald chuckled. "Everyone."

He sighed. "Well, at least we did right by having everyone bring a breakfast item, just in case. Anyway, we didn't have enough beds, so how did everyone manage to sleep?"

Footsteps sounded, and Phillip appeared, self-consciously running his fingers through his tussled blonde hair. "I'm sorry, Percy," he said quietly, "I'll pay for it."

Before Percy could reply, Donald explained, patting the pillow behind him, "Phillip helped take care of us. You were too tired, so we didn't want to wake you. Thomas and he laid out pillows for us."

Percy smiled, and turned to look at Phillip. "Well then, you're off the hook this time. Next time, just be more careful."

Phillip smiled back warmly. "Thanks, I'll be sure to remember that."

A yawn caught their attention as Nia rose from the couch, stretching luxuriously. Smiling sleepily at them, she said, "Thanks for inviting me to the party, Percy. It was a lovely time."

"Glad you enjoyed it." Percy attempted to rise, only to slip back onto the floor with a cry. "If I can only get the room to stop spinning," he grumbled to himself.

Rustling sounded, drawing Nia's attention. She gave a faint smile. "Good morning, Emily."

At Emily's groggy groan, Percy turned his head to see a pillow nest. Emily was sitting on it and scratching her scalp. Mavis was turned away from her, her blonde hair a mess as she continued to sleep. Emily stood in a wobbly manner and leaned against the side wall. "I think I had too much to drink last night," she mumbled as she stared down at the floor.

"That's all of us," Percy replied curtly.

Nia glanced between Emily and Mavis and gave Emily a reassuring smile when she remembered herself and turned to glance at her. With a nod, she cracked her arms over the back of her head. "Matter of time you knew as well, I guess," she mumbled.

"This doesn't leave the room, though, Nia," Donald said, his fingers tapping upon the chair arm moodily.

Nia gave a sober nod. Water ran in the kitchen, and footsteps padded out. Douglas, bearing dark circles under his eyes, appeared, holding two glasses of water, one of which he offered to Donald, who gratefully took it. With a slight wave to the partially assembled group, he moved toward Rosie, who was curled up on an assortment of pillows beneath the window's recess. Kneeling down beside her, he placed his hand on her shoulder, and quietly said, "Wake up, hen. It's morning."

"Where're Thomas and Molly?" Nia asked, glancing about. At Percy's aside glance and slight smirk, she chuckled, catching the sound in her hand.

With a yawn, Rosie sat up to lean her cheek against Douglas's leg. Kissing the top of her head, he held out his hand. Grasping it, she stood, and drew her arm across her eyes.

"They're going to miss breakfast," Phillip commented.

Emily smiled. "Do you want to try to wake them up?"

Padding over to a side door, Percy opened it, and retrieved an implement. "Here, use the broom," Percy handed over the broomstick to Emily, the two of them exchanging smirks.

Raising the broom's back end to the ceiling, and beginning to bang on it, she called out, "Oh Thomas, Molly! Wake up, you two!" A few seconds later, something heavy hit against the floor, with Thomas's muffled swearing carrying down to them.

Percy shrugged, rocking backward slightly on his feet. "Give him a couple of minutes, now. When you wake him, he doesn't go back to sleep. Just takes ages to get moving."

Putting down the broom, she walked over to sit on her knees beside Mavis, who was now awake, blinking blearily and rubbing at her eyes. Through the open bathroom door, Rosie's red hair shone as she ran a brush through it.

"Think we brought too much food?" Emily asked.

Douglas scoffed. "Knowing how we eat? No. I suppose the party was worth the price of admission, though," he said cheekily.

Percy smiled. "You come, you better bring something. Now, quit complaining, and get cooking."

"Yes, sir!" Douglas replied with a mock salute before strutting off to the kitchen. Donald rolled his eyes after his brother.

"I don't remember falling asleep here," Mavis mumbled.

Emily raised an eyebrow, and Mavis smiled, propping her elbow against the pillow nest. "Thanks," she said genuinely. Emily kissed Mavis's forehead, and got up to walk toward the kitchen.

"Hey, Donald!" Emily called over her shoulder, "How about you actually show us that Scottish cooking you've been talking up?"

Donald yawned, cracking his wrists over his head. Standing up, he called out as he went into the kitchen, "Try and keep up with me, lass!"

Percy winced as he held his head. "So, Phillip, this is what happens when you drink a Scotsman's whisky," he mumbled.

Phillip chuckled. "It looked like a good time."

"Is there anything I else I did while drinking last night?" He asked.

Phillip shrugged. "Someone was singing a rendition of the national anthem on the coffee table."

Nia winced. "Phillip, that was you."

With a blush, he asked quietly, "Was I at least good?" At their silence, he cleared his throat self-consciously. "I think I'll help in the kitchen."

"How will you deal with all of this?" Nia asked, using her hands to indicate the room. Discarded bottles, plates, and paper lay everywhere.

Percy shrugged. "We clean it up?"

She laughed. "Well, that's a good answer. Do you need a pair of hands?"

"Yes, please," he replied, quickly taking her up on the notion, "I need to get the medical supplies, anyway."

"Medical supplies? That's kind of you, Percy," Nia commented.

Percy shrugged. "Nothing outside of a few bottles of aspirin. Thought they would come in handy, regardless."

Nia rubbed at the side of her head with a wince. "Agreed."

Mavis dragged in a trash bag, and Nia nodded, beginning to pick up discarded napkins and bottles. Exiting the bathroom, Rosie joined in the cleaning effort, while Percy emerged to disperse the aspirin after dumping a few down his throat. He decided to devise a way to get back at Donald later.

Setting aside the bottles, he picked up a few overturned bottles, and grimaced at the stains on the pillows and floor. The pungent smells filling the air made his stomach growl, and at last Phillip called, "Over here when you're ready!"

Feet sounded on the stairs, and two shadows staggered into sight.

"At last, the man and woman of the hour!" Douglas called.

Percy glanced up and smiled. Thomas, in irritation, flipped off Douglas, while Molly cast her glance away with a slight smile. Both were fully clothed, albeit Thomas was in a pair of pajamas, and Molly was wearing her party dress from last night, which was slightly rumpled.

"Come over here, you two! Soup's on!" Emily commanded, waving them over.

Plates clattered as Emily and Donald loaded them with eggs, sausage, and toast. "Oi, Donnie, what herbs you put in this one?" Douglas crowed, lifting the dish to sniff at it.

Emily rolled her eyes. "He didn't, Douglas. I did. It's basil."

Rosie playfully shoved Douglas from behind to get him out of the way. The group sprawled out over the furniture, careful not to sit on or break anything.

Percy stretched his back out, and Thomas asked, "What's wrong?"

Gesturing with his fork toward Donald and Douglas, he replied, "These two dimwits let me sleep on the floor."

Donald shrugged. "Do we look like your nannies?"

"Er, for what it's worth, Percy, thank you for letting me use your bed," Phillip said in a placating tone.

Percy sighed. "And Phillip broke my lamp."

Thomas tilted his head. "What can I say, we invited them in."

Mavis shrugged. "For what it's worth, you should see some of the parties that Diesel and Sidney throw."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Nia replied quickly, sidling away.

Emily smiled. "Not to worry, Nia, it's not always like it was at the yards. I've been to one, myself. Mavis took me."

"Infiltrator!" Phillip called out in mock disdain, picking up his plate and darting across the room, leaping over a fallen bottle, "Quick, sound the alarm!"

"I'll stop him!" Thomas decided, getting to his feet to chase him around the coffee table, which was still turned on its side. Donald called out encouragingly to Thomas.

"Breakfast and a show, then?" Emily asked, her eyes following them.

Molly's leg moved, and Percy slapped her wrist. "No helping!" She smiled, withdrawing her ankle. Phillip barely had time to put his plate aside before Thomas tackled him to the couch.

Phillip giggled underneath him, and Thomas shook his head. "I am too hung over for this."

Taking in the mess, Percy gave a sigh of relief at the fact that they weren't working today.

XXXXXX

"Phew, it's over!" Isabel exclaimed, her high heeled shoes in one hand as she followed one of the slip coach attendants, Bianca, away from the "Little Western's" women's locker room. A door from the men's locker room swung open, dispensing Duck and Oliver.

"What're you feeling like, tonight?" Oliver asked.

Duck shrugged. "I was thinking a pot roast, and a bread pudding."

Oliver ran his tongue over the side of his lip at that. "Sounds good. What do you need me to do?"

"Look pretty and enjoy it," he replied jokingly, "Oh, and don't complain too much if I burn something."

Oliver smiled. "Well, I suppose I can do that. Though, I'd be surprised if you managed to burn the pudding." Duck rubbed the back of his neck at that, and Oliver appeared concerned. "If you want me to help in the kitchen, I'd be happy to."

Duck shrugged in embarrassment. "I can't rely on you all the time, dear."

"You're not relying, you're learning. Besides, I learned from Toad, anyway, so I'm not perfect, either." Duck nodded at that and gave a sheepish smile. Oliver, with a furtive glance about, brushed his fingers over Duck's, his dark skin gentle against the scars that cut through Duck's pale skin.

Duck admitted to himself that Oliver made him a bit reckless. There were a couple of occasions that they'd flirted with public places as locations for interludes, though they took care to remain vigilant. Oliver's fingers tended to find Duck's skin and feel over the scars he'd incurred from the accident when his apartment had caught fire. Gentle squeezes would prompt Duck to further intimacy. Perhaps he considered Oliver a rogue, or merely liked the softness of the touches. It didn't matter. Regardless, he enjoyed his company on the "Little Western" railway and talk of old times of the Great Western Railway.

Toad waved to them as they ventured away from the platform. "Care to join me at the pond? Might do some good after a long day."

"Your natural habitat?" Oliver asked, playfully nudging him.

"As it is his," Toad replied, gesturing to Duck.

Duck smiled at that. "Yes, but if we throw you in there, I doubt you'll swim as well." They followed him to the pond.

At the side of the pond, Donald and Douglas were milling about with Rosie, the former's shoes off as he appeared to be searching in the water for something. "What's he up to?" Duck asked after greeting them.

Douglas smiled from where he sat beside Rosie, who was leaning forward attentively, her hands over her knees. "Donald's on the hunt."

At Oliver's and Toad's confused expressions, Duck chuckled. "Oh, I know who for. Has she laid?"

Douglas's smile broadened. "The station master told Donnie that she's had about four. Apparently, she was a good mummy, not letting anyone get near them."

A cry from Donald sounded, and the group turned to watch him disappear under the water with a splash. Surfacing, he spluttered and cursed, shaking his hair out. "It shouldn't be this bloody hard to catch a duck!"

"Personally," Oliver laid his head down on his crossed arms, which were behind his head, "I find this to be entertaining enough."

After a few jeers from the lakeside, Donald at least grasped a duck underneath the belly with a cry of, "Aha!" He smiled as he emerged from the water, a large duck in his arms, who flapped sporadically. "Here, Rosie. Come meet Dilly. She's me duck."

Rosie smiled, and she slowly reached out a hand. Dilly flapped her wings at the newcomer, prompting Donald to calm her by smoothing over the feathers at the base of her neck. Dilly stilled, and Rosie stroked her gently. "How'd you find her, Donald?" She asked.

He chuckled. "Well, that be a story. She's a beauty, isn't she?"

Rosie nodded. "She sure is."

"Oh, you're not going to tell her about our prank war?" Duck teased, "It's gotten to be the thing of legend."

Donald shrugged. "To be honest, lad, I wasn't sure if prank wars were the 'Great Western Way.'"

"Winning them is the 'Great Western Way," Oliver replied, tilting his head to the side, "Well, did you?"

Duck glanced away, a blush on his cheeks. "Well, er, we considered it a tie, right, Donald?'

Donald winked. "Ah, ah, ah, not quite. I distinctly remember ye saying 'All right Donald, ye win.'"

Duck conceded with a shrug, and Oliver smiled at Toad. "Well, what do you make of this?"

Toad chuckled. "I think we need to redefine what is the 'Great Western Way,' sir."

Duck gave a mock gasp, placing a hand to his heart. "Oh no, not that! Whatever else will I attach my personal value to?"

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Yes, however will you go on?"

Donald put Dilly down, allowing for the duck to flap away. Rosie chuckled. "Well, Duck, you'll be like me after my engine was repainted. You'd have to start your life all over again."

Duck smiled. "And will you point me in the right direction, Rosie?"

She smiled back. "Shouldn't you be doing that for me, Duck? You've been here longer."

"Oh dear, I can't seem to catch a break today," he commented, glancing about the assembly with a laugh. Taking a handkerchief out of his pocket, he waved it to indicate surrender.

"Well then, I think you've learned your lesson," Oliver teased, "Shall we be off, then?"

Duck nodded. "Quite." Toad waved and departed in the opposite direction as Duck and Oliver left.

Douglas brought his arm about Rosie, squeezing her against him. She tilted her head up to give him an affectionate peck on the lips. "Best head off, hen. It's getting late."

Rosie winked at Douglas, who pointedly kept his back to his brother. Donald was trying and failing to muffle his laughter in his hand. She was up on tiptoe, his arm holding her up. Rosie slipped back down to stand on her own feet. "Good night, sweetheart."

XXXXXX

"Feels good to be returning home with ye this time," Douglas commented, resting his arms over the balcony's short railing of their apartment, which rested above a funeral home. The black livery uniforms the brothers sometimes wore home from work occasionally led a passerby to think that their employment was with the funeral director, when that was not the case.

Donald smiled at him before moving to sit on the porch chair. "I've missed ye, Dougie." Striking a match, Donald lit a cigar, and leaned back in the chair to puff on it. Duck had piqued his curiosity over cigar smoking, and he had attempted it. Getting used to it was another matter in the change of filtration, but he preferred it to cigarettes.

"Missed ye, too," he replied, leaning back to look at him, "Hope we aren't growing apart."

The difference in shifts often caused the twins to miss each other, as of late, with the two becoming more independent. Most notable was Douglas's interest in Rosie. Due to carrying later day shifts as well as night shifts, Douglas spent more time working alongside her during the former.

Rosie, leaning against her engine's cab, commented as she looked sideways at him, "It's a bit foolish, isn't it, pretending to be just like someone else?"

"They say imitation is the best form of flattery," Douglas pointed out.

Rosie chuckled. "I think that I've flattered Thomas too much, then. It was a foolish crush, in retrospect, and I need to move beyond it."

"You don't think you already are?" Douglas asked, his boot scuffing against the gravel, "Rosie, you're working on your own. You don't focus upon Thomas's movements and work habits all the time. There's nothing wrong with being inspired by someone else's manner of working."

Rosie frowned, glancing away from him. "I've made a fool of myself."

"We all have," Douglas replied, "Don't ye worry yourself on that point."

Rosie smiled at that and continued to stare off into the distance.

As they saw each other more often, over time, they became fonder of each other. Rosie felt embarrassed by her engine having a lower capability, but nonetheless committed herself to her work, albeit of pulling lighter loads.

Douglas found it difficult, at first, being away from his twin for long stretches of time, as Donald continued to work on Duck's branch line. He chided himself, however, with the fact that he was capable – he'd proven his worth in the destruction of the brake van, and the firing of the guard.

Outside of the engine shed, James, a tired look on his face, walked over to Douglas, who was sitting on a bench, and feeling unsure of his future. "With my guard being sick, he had to fill in," he explained, his tone becoming bitter as he added, "Good riddance to him."

Douglas gave a sigh of relief. The guard hadn't liked him, thinking him to be a criminal for stealing his train. He was not incorrect on that point. "Why'd he give you trouble?" He asked.

James shrugged. "Simple, I'm reckless. Old man didn't like it, so he tried to cause me trouble, too."

"You can afford to be," Douglas replied with an undertone of annoyance.

"Exactly my point," James replied, adjusting the tassels on his epaulet, "I spoke with the Fat Controller about what happened, so you have that going for you. You're not as important a driver as myself, however."

Douglas took the back handedness of James's wording for what it was worth. "Thankee, then," tapping his foot moodily, he added, his frustration still plain, "I'll be damned if the effort is wasted."

James grinned cockily. "It won't be, when you have me vouching for you."

Douglas smirked at the other man's attitude and wondered if James would ever learn how to deflate his ego. He immediately dismissed the possibility.

"I've had that," Rosie commented as he relayed the tale to her at the water pump. Taking a swig from her canteen, and brushing a wet hand through her bangs, she continued, "A guard I had before acted in a manner similar." Frowning, she commented, "I nearly lost my position as a result."

Douglas scowled as he pulled on the pump. "Why?"

"Can you guess?" She asked rhetorically.

Douglas glanced up at her. "His opinion was bollocks, then." Rosie smiled at that, and he glanced back down at the water. "You think it was wrong, what Donnie and I did?"

Rosie lowered her canteen. "I don't think I can make a judgment, Douglas. Steam is a dying industry. You and I both know that." At his sober nod, she continued, "Nevertheless, it's what our line of work is. It wouldn't have been easy for you to find other work, and, speaking from experience, it most likely would have become worse for an unknowable stretch of time before it could become better. I'm not sure what I would have done, in that situation."

Releasing the pump, and tightly refastening the canteen shut, he replied curtly, "Forget it, then."

She nodded, and departed, the two going their separate ways to work. Rosie later asked Douglas if he wished to take a walk with her by the fairgrounds after work, and he agreed. He picked up the previous conversation thread that had been dropped, feeling uncomfortable about leaving it where it had been. He told her about the prospects that he'd looked over but had found to be less than decent. Mining concerned him in that he would be living in darkness. Sailing bothered him due to his stomach not being able to handle it. Construction was a possibility, but his footing wasn't good enough for the heights.

What he didn't say was that he would gladly have forced himself to do it, had he no other choice. There wasn't a need to vocalize it, however, as it went unsaid. It was easier to take his engine, and leave, at the bottom of it. Rosie, however, commented, "Donald wanted to protect you."

Douglas nodded. "It's a tad embarrassing, I'll be honest, but I couldn't say no. He's me brother, and I didn't want him to leave me behind." He shook his head. "Selfish, really."

"Would you have done the same for him, though?" Rosie asked.

"In a heartbeat," Douglas replied, and she smiled.

They walked again, multiple times, after work, admiring the landscapes, and occasionally sitting down together to eat. Reaching over for her sandwich, Rosie had squeezed his hand once, making him wish for her not to let go.

She told him, rainwater dripping off her ponytail, about how she had begun as a driver. It hadn't been a "family business" prospect, rather she was the middle child that tended to vanish among her siblings. Her joy came from exploring the mechanics of the machines that gave a sense of freedom. With a chuckle, Rosie said, "If I'm going to fade away, I may as well see the world."

Smiling, he joked, "Not going to happen, lass. I'd find that red hair of yours." His comment earned him a self-indulgent smile from her, their breaths whispering to each other in the low temperature.

There were a few things Douglas couldn't tell his brother. Donald had been ready to kill him over his risking his neck in rescuing Oliver and the others from the scrap yard, for one. But there were other things, such as how Rosie felt against him as she breathed, her arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind and her chin resting on top of his head, exhausted from a long week. There were the things she muttered in her sleep. There were more intimate matters that Douglas didn't want to think of, lest his expression give himself away.

Donald smiled. "Hey, I knew it was going to happen. Me twin brother's striking out on his own, and I couldn't be prouder."

Douglas snorted. "Yer twin brother's a criminal, twice over."

"And then what would've happened, Oliver and the others rotting in jail? Sometimes the right thing isn't always the lawful thing."

Douglas leaned backward. "I miss home."

"I know, Dougie, I know," Donald replied, "but if we go back there, we'll be throwing away years of our lives." Douglas said nothing, and Donald went on, "I talked to Nia the other day."

"How's she doing?"

Donald smirked. "She's not a fan of the cold, I can tell ye." Sobering, he continued, "Now there's a woman who can't go home, either. She told me she has nothing left in Kenya."

"She's still looking for the rest of her family?" Douglas inquired.

Donald shook his head. "Not anymore." At his twin's distraught expression, he continued, "Dougie, it's been twelve years since the Mau Mau Uprising ended. She'd been writing letters religiously to her mother, siblings, and cousins, and has a box of the returned letters." Nia's disquieting expression returned to his mind. She had looked so sad, and worn down in the pub, as if twice her years.

Staring down into her drink, she had asked forlornly, more herself than him, "Why did my father take me? What right did I have to live?" Donald had felt frustrated with her for saying that, but merely reached over and squeezed her wrist in a comradely manner.

The other drivers joked, upon first meeting Nia, about her proclamation that her engine had saved her life, that was until after first glance. Her father, a driver for the British Empire, had been transported, with his train, when the Empire was beginning to pull its assets. He'd managed to argue for the life of one person to take with him, and chose his then-adolescent daughter, Nia. A few years after Nia herself had taken up her father's mantle, her engine was purchased, prompting a move to Sodor.

Douglas frowned. "What's this make Sodor then, a place for runaways?"

Donald waved a hand. "I wouldn't read into it quite like that. We're all soldiers of fortune, these days, and it'll probably continue like that."

Douglas nodded, and wrung out the crossbar under his hands. "Donnie be honest with me. Had it not been for me, would you have wanted to go back to Scotland?"

"Doesn't matter, I don't have any regrets," Donald replied, "Besides, I was going to come here, anyway, given how my engine was purchased. Might was well make a name for meself here. And regardless, wanting to go home doesn't change anything. We're here, and we'll make the most of it. You're me family, and I was willing to make that sacrifice."

Douglas glanced away. "Hope I was worth it."

Rising, Donald put a hand on his shoulder. "Always, Dougie."

XXXXXXX

The cemetery was dreary as Edward entered it, James following a few paces behind him. Edward held a hand over the flowers he was carrying to protect them against the wind. James was trying to swallow down his annoyance. They'd argued whether to come at all, and James had lost. He hated it whenever Edward won, which was often. Edward would simply talk him down in a relaxed tone, making him feel foolish by comparison. Still, as the fallen leaves crunched under his shoes, he wanted to fight with him on this again. "You don't have to," was his common refrain, to which Edward would flatly say, "They're my parents."

He supposed that Edward considered this his own form of closure, but if he did it annually, then it wasn't closure; it was habit. James knew that if he argued one more time, Edward would ask if he would wish to return without him, instead.

Edward's feelings were mixed. He missed his parents and felt lonely without them. His memories of them were not completely sorrowful. They had good moments, such as birthdays, praise for his achievements, and holidays. Still, there were too many dark times, between the physical and verbal abuse. His sister Lenore had the decency to not join in and helped to clean him up after a particularly bad beating that gave him his scars. What she said to him, however, cut deep. "Oh Edward, why can't you just act better? Mum and Dad wouldn't be so cruel if you were." And as she got older, she would become accusatory. "You brought this on yourself, you know. I hope you fix yourself soon, otherwise I'll never get a husband."

Distracted with his thoughts, he was surprised to see a small gathering upon his parents' plot of land. "Who're they?" James asked, his tone suspicious.

Edward slowly took in the figures and felt a sense of sadness fall over him. His sister Lenore had grown plumper and was fanning herself. He recalled that the last time he had seen her, she was giving him a disapproving glance as he left his great niece's birthday party. His niece Dorothy had aged, frown lines creasing her face. Susan, her daughter, had grown spry, her long limbs gangly.

Edward pointed each of them out in turn. "My niece, my great niece, and my sister."

James frowned. "Lovely bunch. We can just wait them out."

"It would be ridiculous to wait for them to leave," he replied, "I have as much right to be there as they do."

James stopped him. "No, you listen to me, for once. You don't have anything to prove to them."

"That isn't it at all," Edward responded evenly.

"You could've fooled me," he replied, "You can wait for them to leave, Edward. No one is forcing you to talk to them. And if doing so upsets you, then you don't need to."

Edward lowered the flowers. "James, I need you to trust me on this."

He hesitated before acquiescing with a nod of his head. Edward, frankly, could have rightfully told him it wasn't any of business, but at least his opinion was being considered. "All right. I'll be here if you need me."

Edward smiled at him before moving toward the gathering. The oldest of the women paused to stare at the approaching man before asking, "Edward, is that you?"

Removing his hat, he replied, "It's been too long, Lenore."

She glanced over at James, "And, he is?"

Edward turned his head, and James gave a nod. "An acquaintance."

"I'm sure," commented an annoyed voice. The two men glanced over to see the second oldest woman giving James a pointed look.

"Oh, Dorothy," Edward commented, "How are you?"

Dorothy held up a hand to him. "He stays over there, then, as he's just an acquaintance. This doesn't concern him."

"No," Edward replied sharply, "James is like family to me. He has as much right."

"Like family, is he?" Dorothy asked with a tilt of the head, "But not truly family, correct? He may remain there, then, as again, this does not concern him. It is nice of him to humor you, however."

Edward gave James an apologetic look, to which James gave a reassuring nod, having braced himself for such mistreatment beforehand. Turning back, Edward moved forward to lay his flowers at the foot of the tombstone. Edward's niece turned her gaze to look at James. For a moment, her eyes widened at him, her gaze turning appraising. James felt a sense of pride at that, only for it to immediately disappear when she scowled at him as if he were a rotten tomato. Of course, he figured, returning it whole-heartedly, he was the "horrid boy" in this, after all.

Edward's great niece, by contrast, looked unsure of herself, and shy. She stood away from her mother, her expression muted. Her eyes, however, were locked onto him. "Susan, stop staring, that isn't very polite."

"Oh, sorry," she replied quickly, averting her eyes.

James, partly out of spite for the girl's mother, and partly out of feeling sorry for her, said, "Don't worry, I'm not offended."

He smiled at Susan, who self-consciously pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "Hello," she greeted quietly, "Are you a friend of great uncle Edward?"

He nodded. "Yes, I know him from work."

Susan slowly returned his smile. "Oh, I know that. You're the driver, James Frost," turning her gaze somewhat away from him, she commented quietly, "You do look handsome in person."

Holding out a hand to her, James inquired, "You've ridden in one of my coaches before?"

Susan was tentative, but at last relented, placing her hand in his. "Yes, I have. You're quite fast, and your engine is lovely."

James placed a kiss to the back of her hand, and Susan blushed. "Why, thank you. I appreciate such a comment from a pretty girl, such as yourself."

Susan blinked at that. "Oh, but aren't you—"

"Flattered to meet such a charming young lady? Of course," James recovered. Susan's doubt disappeared for a moment, and he pointedly ignored her mother's annoyed comment.

"Charming? Well, uh, thank you," she replied, flustered. Drawing her hand back, she asked, "Will you walk with me?"

He nodded, following her past the trees, many of which were bare in the late fall weather. "Do you like sketching?" She asked timidly, "The trees are quite pretty to draw, like this."

James smiled at her. "Why yes, I do, though I like to draw clothing." Dorothy made an annoyed grunt at that, but said nothing, shadowing them as they moved along.

"He's nice-looking," Lenore commented, her voice turning accusatory, "I see that you've robbed the cradle."

Edward's head swung at that, and he felt considerably hurt. "James is over thirty. He's old enough to think for himself."

"Edward," Lenore sighed, "Please, reconsider. You've had a good life. I don't want you to end it in a prison or an asylum." At his silence, she added, "And if you truly care for James, you would be worrying for his sake, too. You will need a nurse as you get older, and forcing him, as your lover, to take up that responsibility is wrong. Don't have him throw his life away for you."

Edward felt anger rising in himself at her arrogance. He'd considered that many times, in perhaps ways that she wouldn't think of. He considered it when he heard James's bare feet padding across the floorboards of their home, or whenever he heard James's cockney accent calling out his name or going on about some thing or other. He knew he couldn't explain it to her, how the domesticity she took for granted in her own home was so precious to him. Edward knew he was allowing his envy to cloud his judgment, but he didn't much care.

He replied tightly, "I have already done so."

"Regardless, perhaps it would be better for him if he agreed to another arrangement. My granddaughter is looking for a husband." Edward's jaw dropped at that, and she continued, "If Susan had children with James, they would certainly be handsome."

Disgusted, Edward turned away from her.

"Edward!" She exclaimed in annoyance, "Don't you turn your back on me when I'm talking to you!"

He kept his back to her as he replied, "Lenore, please stop insulting me."

"Well, I never!" Paper thumping sounded, and he figured she had slapped her fan against her hip. She exclaimed, "You've gotten to be so mean!"

Pivoting on his heel, he replied sharply, "Then perhaps you should consider not speaking with me."

"You're my brother!" She cried in disdain, starting over, "It seems like ever since you started working on that railway, you've become an awful man." She waved a finger. "That job ruined you, Edward!"

"Pray tell, how?" Edward asked, spreading his hands, "I have neither served prison time, nor exploited my own family."

"You act cruel towards me when I am only trying to help you."

"Help me?" He questioned, pointing behind himself, "You just referred to my partner as if he were breeding stock!"

Lenore sighed. "You lack understanding, brother. James seems a nice lad, but he would never join the Wells family alongside you in this lifetime. By marrying Susan, he would be able to do so."

"You don't understand him, then." He lowered his hand. "James told me he was against doing such a thing, as it would be a lie."

"He'd rather be alone?" She asked in surprise.

"Yes."

"Then perhaps you exhibited better judgment than I thought," she commented, lowering her fan.

Edward's expression softened. "Lenore, I know you don't like the man I have become, over the years. I have hardened, and for that I apologize. However, I don't wish to change."

Lenore's face fell. "Then we have reached the parting of the ways."

He nodded. "I'm sorry, sister, but that is correct."

"Very well." She placed the fan away. "You'll have no further trouble from me. Just be sure that you have made the right decision with James, Edward. If he leaves you like Christopher did, you'll have no one to turn to."

"I'm willing to take that risk," he replied.

Lenore unceremoniously walked away from him, and stopped to collect her daughter, who was watching James's conversation with Susan, her arms folded. Susan's mother called to her, and she departed with an uncertain glance at James. Released from the conversation, James started over to Edward. "You all right?" He asked.

Edward sighed, removing his hat to wipe at his forehead. "I won't be hearing from her again."

"I'm sorry," James replied quietly.

Edward wanted to place his hand on his partner's chest, and lean on him for a moment, but it was out of the question. "It had to be done," he said.

"This wasn't what you wanted," James commented.

Edward nodded, and gestured for James to come with him. "No, but it's something I've become used to."

James reached for his wallet. "Here, I want you to come with me."

Edward glanced over. "Where?"

"We're going to be like kids. We'll eat stuff that's bad for us, and not care," James replied, "Don't worry about the price, I'll take care of it."

Edward placed his hands in his pockets and moved a step away. "While I appreciate the gesture, you don't have to."

James smiled. "What's this? You're not taking advantage of such a rare offer from me?"

Edward smiled and played along. "Not when you're trying to fatten me up."

James grinned. "A pity, really. It's becoming easier for you to catch me."

Tossing his scarf over his shoulder, Edward followed James out of the cemetery, not wanting to think on the implications of his future.